A Mother’s Day duet: … and her son writes back

A Mother's Day duet: … and her son writes back

Here we are again: Mother’s Day, the most sacred of all days on Jane’s calendar. Yes, Father’s Day is also important, but I can’t recall my dad ever staying up until 2 a.m. to help me finish — who are we kidding, completely do — my science project. Which was due that very morning. Yep, that one was all mummy.

This probably doesn’t go well with your message of doing what’s difficult, but human beings are, as you said, always looking for what is easiest. Why would a seventh grader be any different?

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Raising children as a single mother is not an unheard of endeavour. A lot of my friends’ parents are no longer together, so I’m hardly what one would call an outlier. I’m sure children from a traditional two-parent home have different examples from life, but I didn’t, and thus, can’t compare. I’m starting now, however, to understand more fully that your task was not an easy one. I’m starting now to understand that, maybe, having reinforcements would have changed things. You were a lone wolf trying to raise two monkeys — a mixed metaphor, I know, but a perfect description of your job.

So, I am the product of a single-parent home. As such, it was easier to bend rules, or keep badgering you for the car keys, despite having heard “no” a half-dozen times. I pushed the envelope because I knew I could. Even now, I leave dirty dishes beside the sink. Or on the coffee table. I gotta stop that, I know. I’m beginning to see that having someone on-site to back you up would have resulted in me behaving somewhat differently. I guess every family benefits from having a tag team at the helm. Getting away with stuff wasn’t in my best interest. Hard/easy: I get it, I get it. It feels terrible to put this on paper, but I definitely did exploit your circumstance. Even at the age of eight I knew that two trumped one. But you should know, it wasn’t your solo-ness we exploited; it was your unconditional love. You were always there for us — rocksteady — and it’s easy to take that for granted.

About my upbringing: perfect/imperfect? I guess there is only effort and intention and no one could fault you in those areas. It was you who consoled me after my first heartbreak. It was you who took me for lakeside picnics and puddle walks and drove me everywhere and, late at night and early in the morning, made biscuits for my friends. You taught me how to finish the job, how to be accountable; at least, you’re still trying to. You loved me with every inch of your being and not once did I ever feel any other way.

You have been asking the “Can you do what is hard?” question for over a decade now. I’ve heard it and I understand it. I was not raised to cut corners. I will not be a shady stockbroker making money from insider trading or off of pensioners. I won’t be sly or sneaky or lazy. I may even, one day, put my dishes directly in the dishwasher.

You say I was imperfectly raised but you did a perfectly fine job. I hear your voice — sometimes I bet the neighbours heard your voice! — and it guides me. And if I never really thanked you for your help with that science project, I’m thanking you now. For that, and for everything else. I love you, mum. Happy Mother’s Day.